Jamie should have been heading back to the house by now. But what was the point? The wedding wasn’t going to happen without Dad. There was nothing to be late for.
He was standing on a muddy track in Washingley, having run like a headless chicken up and down every footpath just south of Folksworth. His trousers were covered in mud, he’d torn the sleeve of his jacket on barbed wire and he felt like shit.
He was the person his father had confided in. He was the person who had failed to stop his father doing precisely what his father had said he was going to do. He was the person who had fucked up his sister’s wedding.
He now realized what a stupid idea it was looking for his father like this. His father could have set off in any direction.
He had to explain to everyone what had happened. He had to inform the police. He had to apologize. He walked back to the car, put a plastic bag on the driver’s seat, got in and drove home.
He knew something was wrong as soon as he arrived. There were no cars. He parked and walked to the front door. It was locked. He rang the bell. There was no answer. He looked through the windows. The house was empty.
Maybe Ray had told them what had happened. Maybe they were all out looking for his father. Maybe they’d found him. Maybe everyone was at the hospital.
He tried not to think about these things.
He’d lost his mobile. He had to get into the house. If only to find a phone and some dry trousers. He tried the side gate. Eileen and Ronnie’s dog threw itself against the far side, barking and scraping the wood with its claws. He turned the handle. It was locked.
Oh well, his trousers were already knackered…
He grabbed hold of the post and put his foot into one of the grooves in the stone wall and hoisted himself up. He hadn’t done this kind of thing for many years and it took three attempts, but he finally got himself straddled uncomfortably over the top of the gate.
He was looking down on the other side, wondering best how to negotiate the long drop and the crazy dog when someone said, “Can I help you?”
He turned his head and found himself looking at an elderly man he vaguely recognized. The man was wearing a Shetland jumper and carrying a pair of garden shears.
“I’m fine, thanks,” said Jamie, though his presence on the top of the gate was driving the dog into a frenzy.
“Is it Jamie?” asked the man with the shears.
“It is,” said Jamie. His crotch was starting to hurt.
“I’m sorry,” said the man, “I didn’t recognize you. Haven’t seen you in a long time. Not since you were a teenager. I’m Derek West, from across the road.”
“Right,” said Jamie. He had to go for it, despite the risk of breaking an ankle, despite the risk of squashing his aunt’s dog or being eaten alive. He shifted his center of gravity a little.
“Aren’t you meant to be at the wedding?” asked the man.
“Yes,” said Jamie. The man was clearly an idiot.
“They left about five minutes ago.”
“What?”
“They left about five minutes ago.”
Jamie took a few seconds to process this information. “And they were going to the register office?”
“Where else would they be going?” asked the man.
The truth began to dawn. “With my father?”
“I presume so.”
“But did you actually see him?”
“I didn’t tick them off a list, as it were. No. Wait. I did see him. Because I remember him stumbling on the pavement a little. And your mother made him get into the passenger seat so she could drive. Which I did notice, because when they head off in the car together it’s nearly always your father who drives. Which made me wonder whether there was something wrong with him. Is there something wrong with him?”
“Fuck,” said Jamie.
Which shut Mr. West up.
He shifted his center of gravity back the other way and jumped down, ripping his jacket for a second time. He ran to the car, dropped his keys, picked up his keys, got into the car and drove away at high speed.